


Broke His Action Man

by nottoolateforthegame



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: (not Major Canon Character), Character Death, Gen, Kid Mycroft, Kid Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft makes mistakes, Pre-Canon, Sherlock Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 02:28:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18956059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nottoolateforthegame/pseuds/nottoolateforthegame
Summary: John's line "Broke his action man?" always stuck out to me. What if the reason Sherlock and Mycroft don't get along is because Sherlock blames Mycroft for the loss of his real life action man?Please note: Victor Trevor goes Missing in Action (is assumed dead) near the end of the story. I did not tag for MCD as I don't feel he is a Major Character in this story, but I am happy to tag it as such if anyone feels it deserves the tag.





	Broke His Action Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thetimemoves (WriteOut)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriteOut/gifts).



> Thanks for the last minute beta from my gal Marie, who will probably never see this on AO3 because she is not a Fandom person. She's a peach and helped my disorganized self pull this off just under the wire!

Mycroft's stomach was fluttering, his heart was pounding in his chest, his palms were sweaty. He focused on breathing carefully, on staying calm on the outside. If they knew how nervous he was, he might not be allowed to do this. He kept his eyes focused just ahead of himself, not meeting the eyes of, or truly focusing on, anyone else in the room.

"Remember, darling, he needs you to support him." Mummy said as she adjusted his arms on the pillow.

And then Mycroft found himself staring down at his baby brother. _William Sherlock Scott Homes._ Mycroft inhaled deeply, wondering at the unfamiliar yet pleasing smell that seemed to cling to the baby. He was so tiny, so delicate. Mycroft could see the softness of his nails, the miniscule veins on his eyelids...the baby's eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks as his head moved and mouth pursed, his whole body squirming slightly in the blanket Mummy had bundled him in before settling again with the softest of sighs.

Though his baby brother was tiny, the weight of him in Mycroft's arms was somehow larger than life. Mycroft felt the anticipation and nervousness he’d felt about his impending older brother status dissipate as a bone deep love for this tiny being settled deep into his bones. He grinned up at Mummy, who was watching him with that silly look she sometimes got that usually meant she was going to smother him in a hug. This time she settled for bussing a kiss atop his head.

"I knew you'd be a natural. You've got so much love in you Mycroft. You're going to be the best big brother."

Mycroft swelled with pride at his mother’s words. He looked back down at his baby brother and felt his new role in life settle over him like a warm blanket. He made a silent promise to always be the best big brother he could be as he dared to press a kiss to his baby brother's forehead.

* * *

“Mycie have’s a boo boo?”

Mycroft's eyes popped open from where they'd been squeezed shut against the pain as his mother carefully cleaned and applied a plaster to the cut over his eye.

Sherlock was standing next to where Mycroft sat in a chair at the kitchen table, eyes large and filled with concern.

“Yes, darling. Mycroft got hurt on his way home from school.” Mummy said, the anger in her voice restrained for the sake of her young audience.

She secured the plaster in place and swept up her supplies, turning to toss the trash and moving to the freezer to pull out an ice pack. In addition to the cut over his eye, Mycroft was sure to be sporting a rather awful black eye that week.

“I kiss it!” Sherlock offered, attempting to pull himself up into Mycroft's lap. Mycroft's arms automatically reached out, settling his baby brother securely in his lap.

“Be careful, love.” His mother warned as Sherlock reached out to hold Mycroft's head and kiss it

“Gentle. Gentle.” Sherlock said softly, carefully patting Mycroft's copper curls, glancing to his mother for approval before placing the softest of kisses against Mycroft's forehead.

“All better.” Sherlock declared, settling against Mycroft for a cuddle.

After Mummy brought the ice pack over, Sherlock squirmed down and climbed into his own chair.

“I'm horngry. Want snaps!” he declared.

“Of course, darling, how silly of Mummy to forget after school treats.” Mummy replied with a chuckle.

Mycroft and Sherlock began eating. Only Mycroft was aware of the conversation his mother was having on the phone. While he couldn't make out her words, he was quite certain she as on the phone with Mr. Pendhurst, the principal, lodging a complaint about the group of boys who had cornered Mycroft on his way home. Mummy was rather scary when she was all riled up like this.

“Mycie play with me?”

Mycroft dragged himself out of his thoughts to focus on William. The toddler was standing in front of him, looking up at him imploringly.

He smiled. “How about some hide and seek. You go hide first.”

* * *

“Mycie! Mycie!”

Mycroft's only warning was his brother shouting his name and the sound of sand being kicked up before he was being tackled by his little brother. He felt thin but surprisingly strong arms wrap around his neck and squeeze. William laughed with delight as Mycroft twisted and maneuvered so that he could lift his little brother up and over his head, so that William landed on his back on the towel in front of him.

"There's a pirate cave Mycie! A real one!” Sherlock bounced up to face his brother, practically vibrating with excitement. And Dad said we can 'splore it but only if we hurry because when the tide comes back the water will fill it up and it won't be there anymore!"

Mycroft stood, dusting off.

“We’ll, in that case, we’d better hurry along.”

Sherlock jumped up, wrapping his arms about Mycroft’s waist and squeezing tightly before dashing ahead, shouting out for Mycroft to follow.

* * *

Mycroft trudged across the field, head down to avoid the sting of the cold wind against his cheeks. He was glad when he reached the shelter of the trees. It wasn’t any warmer here, but the wind was less cutting. He walked through the trees to the cluster of bushes surrounding a haphazard (but sound) structure of wood and tarps.

"Sherlock. I know you're in there." Silence greeted him. "Can I come in?"

Mycroft sighed and dropped to the ground. He crawled slowly through the well worn path through the bushes. Thankfully, it had long since been cleared of rocks, twigs and other debris. He crawled until he came to the fort proper, which was fortunately tall enough for him to stand up in.

Sherlock sat at the furthest end of the fort, back against the tree at the center of the fort, head curled over his arms, which were wrapped around his knees.

Mycroft said nothing at first, just settled into place next to his little brother, wrapping one arm around him. After a few minutes, he felt Sherlock begin to shift, his weight pressing against Mycroft's side as he buried his head against Mycroft's shoulder and wrapped both arms around his waist.

"They were so awful Mycie! Called me a cheat an’ said Mummy was one too!" he hiccuped out against Mycroft's ribs.

Mummy had already explained. Sherlock had been disqualified from the science fair because the judges refused to believe he hadn't had significant help from their parents. Sherlock's usually dismissive attitude about school had worked against him.

"Im sorry Lockie. People are idiots."

"'s'not fair!" Sherlock wailed. "Stupid Bertie Winshaw won and all he did was grow some stupid bean plants!"

Mycroft didn't say anything for a few minutes, just holding his brother close as he sniffled. After he calmed again, Mycroft loosened his hold and leaned back to look down at Sherlock. Tear tracks streaked through the dirt on his brother's cheeks. His damp, pink rimmed eyes shone bluer than ever.

"Your project was a thousand times better than some stupid bean plants.” he agreed. “Unfortunately, the people at that school are small minded fools. But you needn’t concern yourself with them, Sherlock. You’ve got me, and Mummy and Daddy. And when you’re all grown up, you’ll be able to go away to somewhere better, somewhere bigger, where there are people who will appreciate just how special you are.”

* * *

“Mycie!” Mycroft braced himself as Sherlock’s lanky form crashed against him, halting the eleven year old’s headlong dash down the drive. “You’ve got to come see my bees!"

Mycroft left his bag inside the door as he let himself be dragged through the house and out the backdoor. His first semester at uni had been long and lonely; last week's finals had been stressful even for him. But he felt all of it wash away as Sherlock's enthusiastic recounting of his bee observations washed over him.

* * *

“Myc?”

Mycroft looked up, pausing in packing the bag on his bed.

“What is it Sherlock?”

Sherlock didn’t answer. Instead he walked into Mycroft’s room, strolling over to his desk and picking up random objects before setting them back down. Finally, he glanced at Mycroft, then the door to the bathroom, behind which Ethan was showering.

"Is Ethan your boyfriend?"

Mycroft inhaled deeply. He glanced at the bedroom door, then back at Sherlock, who was once again feigning interest in the objects on his desk.

"Why do you ask?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I know Mummy and Daddy think he's just a friend who had nowhere to go for holls. But sometimes when you look at each other, it's different. And he's been using your shampoo and stuff. Plus, you guys keep ditching me to go be alone together."

Mycroft chewed his lip. It wasn't like Sherlock to notice things and not share them on the spot. Especially if it meant catching Mycroft out in a lie. Much as he looked up to his big brother, it was always something worth crowing over to deduce the truth.

"Sherlock-"

"I think-"

Mycroft clamped his mouth shut as he realized Sherlock was _nervous_. He pushed the bag across the bed and patted the spot next to him. Sherlock sat next to him, still not really looking at him. Mycroft waited. He knew from experience that Sherlock would just clam up if pushed.

"I think. I might be. Well. If. That is, I don't, mostly, but if I did, I think I would want to with-" Sherlock swallowed loudly, "boys."

Sherlock finally looked at Mycroft, eyes full of apprehension.

"Sherlock. You don't have to...decide now." Mycroft paused, choosing his words carefully. "There is no timetable on figuring it all out, nor is there a right or wrong answer."

Before he could say more, Ethan stepped out of the bathroom, towel slung low around his hips. A string of fresh hickeys trailed beneath his collarbone.

"Myc. Did we already pack-"

"I knew it!" Sherlock crowed with delight, cutting Ethan off. "That pattern of oof!"

Mycroft dropped the pillow he'd whacked his brother with. When Sherlock turned to glare at him, he merely raised an eyebrow. Sherlock looked between Mycroft and Ethan, opened his mouth to say something, then jumped up from the bed.

“Oh, never mind. I’m going to go grab some biscuits before Mummy sends them all away with you.”

* * *

 “You’ve gone too far, Mycroft!” Sherlock stormed into Mycroft’s office, leaving his P.A. stammering at the door. He really did need to find one made of sterner stuff if he was going to continue on his planned trajectory with the Home Office.

“Sherlock. Come in, take a seat.” Mycroft folded the cover over the report he’d been reading and crossed his hands on his desk.

Rather than sitting, Sherlock started pacing back and forth in front of Mycroft’s desk.

“What’s the matter, Mycroft? You don’t have enough to stick your big nose in at work, you have to try to control my life too?!”

“I don’t know what has got you in such a bother, Sherlock, but-”

Sherlock snorted and flung a folded piece of paper on Mycroft’s desk. Mycroft picked it up and scanned it.

“Whatever strings you pulled to make this happen-”

“I assure you, Sherlock, I had nothing to do with this.”

“Right! And I suppose it's just a coincidence that two days after you tried to bribe my boyfriend into breaking up with me that he is called up to active duty!”

“Sherlock-”

“Just shut up, Mycroft! I don’t believe you! Whatever you did, just undo it! And then stay the fuck out of my life!” Sherlock stormed out of the office as quickly as he’d stormed in.

Mycroft sat staring at the slammed door, thinking over his actions. The man in question, one Victor Trevor, was a worrisome influence on his brother. The man had weaseled his way into Sherlock’s life, going from stranger to lover seemingly overnight. Before Mycroft had become aware of the man’s existence, he’d already convinced Sherlock to move off campus, where he proceeded to encourage his brother to ditch classes and spend his night’s out clubbing. Within a month of meeting the man, Sherlock had brought him home to their parents, introducing him as his life partner.

Mycroft _had_ attempted to bribe Trevor. He’d offered a rather large amount of money if the man would break up with his brother and move out of the dingy flat they shared. Trevor had laughed in his face and turned him down. Mycroft hadn’t been surprised when Sherlock had called later that night to scream at him for what he’d done. It had been a rather heavy handed attempt on his part.

But he truly hadn’t anything to do with Trevor being called up from the Reserves. He had briefly entertained the idea of doing exactly as Sherlock had accused, but had realized it would only cause Sherlock to dig in his heels further. Not to mention he was certain half his brother’s obsession with the other man was the romanticized ideal of being in love with a soldier. Being in a long distance relationship with a soldier would only feed that nonsense.

Mycroft sighed. Now he would have to come up with a new  to mitigate this situation. But first, he had actual work to finish.

* * *

“This is your fault.” Sherlock’s voice was hoarse but emotionless as he stared blankly at Mycroft. Mycroft’s heart ached at the sight of his brother-pale, face the kind of blank that only comes with sudden, deep grief. He was clearly not dealing well with the news of Trevor’s Missing in Action status. Mycroft had been out of the country when Mummy had called and told him the news-Trevor’s own mother had been the one to inform Sherlock.

“Sherlock. I had nothing to do with-”

“Get out!” Sherlock’s voice carried venom.

“Really, Sherlock-”

“I said get out! Get out! Fuck off! Fuck you! Get out!” Sherlock was shouting as he leapt to his feet. “I don’t want you here! Unless you find him and bring him back, I don’t ever want to see your stupid fucking face again! I hate you!” Color had returned to Sherlock’s face, twin flags of red staining his cheeks beneath reddened eyes and dark circles.

Mycroft’s mouth opened and closed. For once, he was at a loss. He didn’t know what to do, what to say. His baby brother was hurt and angry and needed him. But he wanted nothing to do with him. Mycroft felt his shoulders slump in defeat.

“I’m sorry, Sherlock. I would never want you hurt like this.” he said quietly before stepping out of the room, closing the door softly behind himself.

He heard a muffled thud, then the sound of his brother, sobbing in the other room. He slid down the wall next to the door, unable to leave his brother alone with his grief, yet unable to do anything to help.

* * *

“Please, Mycroft. John’s in danger.”

Mycroft closed his eyes against the desperation in his brother’s voice.

“Sherlock.”

“Moriarty is going to hurt him. Or worse. Please, Mycie.”

Mycroft inhaled sharply at the nickname, swallowing thickly. This wasn’t what he wanted. He had tried to keep Sherlock away from Moriarty. But the man had drawn his brother like a moth to the flame. Were it not for Doctor Watson, Mycroft wasn’t certain the criminal wouldn’t have drawn his brother directly into the fire and burned him to ashes by now. Mycroft had long since realized that Doctor Watson was the best thing he could ever have hoped for in his brother’s life.

“What do you need, baby brother?” Mycroft settled back against his chair as he listened to his brother outline a plan that was too full of risk, too dangerous. But in the end, he knew he would agree to it. If Sherlock lost Doctor Watson, Mycroft was certain to lose his brother. He wasn't sure he could survive that again. 


End file.
